Hymne VIII: To all the Princes of Europe

Europe the Earthes sweete Paradise:
Let all thy Kings that would be wise,
In Politique Deuotion:
Saile hither to obserue her eyes,
And marke her heauenly motion.

Braue Princes of this ciuill age,
Enter into this pilgrimage:
This Saints tongue is an oracle,
Her eye hath made a Prince a Page,
And workes each day a Miracle.

Raise but your lookes to her, and see
Euen the true beames of Maiestie,
Great Princes, marke her duly;
If all the world you do suruey,
No forehead spreades so bright a Ray,
And notes a Prince so truly.